


Give and Take

by My_Beating_Hart



Series: A Mahariel's Travels [55]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, the fic ideas that would not leave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 10:27:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5001208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Beating_Hart/pseuds/My_Beating_Hart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A two-parter:<br/>“Are you sure you want to do this?”</p><p>“So, what kind of thoughts did you entertain on the long and lonesome road?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Give

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron's first time giving oral.

The first and only time Theron properly tried, it was stretched out lazily in Zevran’s tent, a dimmed lantern giving the night a faint orange-yellow glow - not that two elves truly needed the light source when they could see well enough without it. It cast gentle shadows over their skin, lending a romantic if not sensual atmosphere.

The blond hummed softly in approval, his golden eyes wide with arousal as he watched every movement of the ranger sprawled on top of him. Theron slowly worked his way lower, edging down as his confidence grew, and he pressed gentle kisses to the Antivan’s toned stomach.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Zevran asked again, causing the Dalish elf to lift his head up and shoot him an unamused look.

“I’m sure. It can’t be that difficult.” Theron replied, glancing down towards his target; Zevran’s slightly flushed cock, resting half hard against his thigh.

“Admittedly, no, but I do not want to give you too high a bar.” The blond shrugged, and Theron felt arousal pool in his groin as he remembered the times and ways Zevran’s clever tongue had brought him to climax in the past. Now he felt it was time to return the favour, even if this was the first time he’d tried it.

“I think I’ll keep things simple tonight.” He answered dryly, pressing another kiss to the top of the coarse smattering of hair that guided him lower. He could feel the tension and roll of Zevran’s muscles under his lips.

“An excellent strategy.” Zevran muttered approvingly, shifting where he lay on the bedroll to prop himself up on his elbows. Theron smirked at him, and then continued to edge further down into the furs until his head was level with the curves and lines of the other elf’s hips. 

He lost no time in pressing slightly firmer kisses along the sharp angles of his hipbones, teasing but also determined. He’d try doing this, at the very least, for Zevran. Perhaps one day he would be able to match his skills, render him just as incoherent and lost in pleasure with just his tongue? 

The thought encouraged Theron to lower his head in an action he wasn’t very familiar with in comparison to everything else Zevran had shown him how to do already. 

Zevran’s bronzed skin was still flushed, a faint splash of colour present in his member and cheeks. For a moment, Theron found himself admiring the sight in the dim lighting.

“Enjoying the view?” The blond purred, drawing attention back to his face.

“Of course, I’d be mad not to.” Theron grinned back, idly running one hand up the inside of Zevran’s thigh, his touch becoming feather-light the higher it went. The blond let out another soft noise of approval that turned into an airy hum. The Dalish elf settled between Zevran’s helpfully spread legs, pressing kisses where his fingers had just been as his hand curled around Zevran’s cock. Now this was something he was more familiar with; he was starting to learn which delicate areas the other elf enjoyed being touched, along with how and when. 

“Hmm, Theron...” Zevran sighed, tipping his head back to look up towards the canvas ceiling with a faint smile on his lips and a measured breath out. The named elf smiled back, moving his fingers carefully so he could tease those sensitive spots and coax Zevran to full hardness.

“Enjoying yourself?” Theron half-echoed, peering up at the blond’s face when it earned him a soft laugh.

“Yes. Obviously.” Zevran nodded, looking back so their gazes met. There was something behind the smoulder of lust and arousal in his golden eyes, a certain softness that could only be glimpsed if Theron looked hard enough. It made his chest tighten briefly and threatened to make him smile in response.

Instead, he looked away and cleared his throat softly, remembering what he was aiming to do before the night was over. He kept moving his fingers, prompting a brief twitch of Zevran’s hips and a noise that wasn’t quite a groan. It was muted; outside the thin canvas walls of their tent, the others were either on watch or trying to sleep. They had to be quiet, and the knowledge never failed to add an interesting edge to their nights of intimacy.

The black-haired elf eventually stopped moving his hand, lowering his head back down to Zevran’s thighs. He could feel the other elf watching him intently, and a faint shiver of longing ran through him as he finally worked up the courage to press a kiss to the head of Zevran’s cock. The touch was soft and gentle, but he could feel heat against his lips and taste the blond when he licked his lips.

“Good, good.” Zevran murmured reassuringly above him. “Do that again.” He added, always the good teacher. 

“Mm.” Theron sighed, pressing his lips against the blond’s length again. This time he began to press kisses down the shaft, drawing on what Zevran always did to him. Really, copying what Zevran did seemed to be the best way to approach this sort of thing; he was experienced enough for both of them.

The Antivan let out another pleased hum at the contact, arching his back leisurely. Encouraged, Theron parted his lips and began to flick the tip of his tongue back up the shaft. The taste of Zevran was stronger, musky with sweat and slightly bitter with precum.

The blond groaned quietly above him, and this time he lifted a hand up to cover his mouth. Was he enjoying it that much already? Then again, it had been a few months since they’d started their relationship, and this was the first time Theron had done this. Perhaps Zevran had missed the feeling?

The ranger smiled at the idea as he continued to use his tongue, growing bold enough to start licking stripes. He could have sworn Zevran groaned again, but when he looked up the Antivan's head was tilted back against the pillows, his eyes shut tight.

"Ah, Theron." The blond murmured, and Theron looked back down as his hips twitched upwards insistently. His tongue worked for a few more minutes, until he felt a warm hand run over his braids and tangle in them. Zevran’s grip was loose, and it didn’t pull or push him in any particular direction, but the slight weight made him pause, uncertain now. 

Obviously Zevran was enjoying himself with this, but Theron knew what was supposed to come next. He would take Zevran into his mouth, and continue to pleasure him like that. But now he was suddenly at that stage, he found his resolve wavering. What if he couldn’t do it? The idea of having Zevran in his mouth wasn’t very appealing, he had to admit to himself. He could - and perhaps would - take the Antivan into his mouth, but more for his pleasure than his own.

“Theron?” Zevran’s gentle voice in the lull and the hand that removed itself from his braids to brush down his cheek made him look up at a curious, faintly concerned face. “Are you…?” He trailed off, the rest of his sentence obvious. Theron took a breath and looked away guiltily, stomach tightening in shame.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do it. Not yet.” He admitted, refusing to look back up at the blond and see his disappointment.

He was surprised when the blond gently cupped his chin and pulled his head back up so their gazes met again. Zevran’s eyes were still wide with lust.

“I would not be offended if we stopped.” Zevran pointed out, his expression soft with understanding and that glimpsed something that made Theron’s chest tight. He tried not to let his relief be too obvious as the guilt slowly left his mind. Of course, he had a feeling that Zevran would be able to tell anyway from his not-quite-neutral expression.

“Are you sure?” He asked as he sat up and folded his legs, glancing down at the blond’s flushed, eager length.

“Of course.” Zevran echoed from earlier with a dry smile as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. "I care far more about you than what you can do to or for me. If you are not comfortable with this, then I will simply not ask it of you again." He continued, voice and smile gentle. "I will try not to miss it too much. Now, there are plenty of other things we could do instead.” He added, nodding to Theron’s so far neglected arousal. The Dalish elf felt his cheeks heat at the same time as his stomach.

“Do you have anything more specific in mind?” He queried.

“Naturally. Admittedly, some ideas won’t be as quiet as others.” Zevran lamented as he edged close enough to press a kiss to the Dalish elf’s lips. “But they will be  _ just _ as fun.” He promised seductively.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Theron. But he doesn't have to like every sex act. I've written on the blog a few times about how he never likes giving oral sex, and I felt like I needed to write a piece that explored that a little.


	2. Take

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shameless PWP idea that wouldn't leave me alone.

The group wearily trekked into the tavern, exhausted after a long day on the road spent fighting darkspawn and trying to reach somewhere with lodgings for them all rather than spend another night camped out in tents. Thankfully there were enough rooms to be shared between them - Oghren wasn’t happy to once again be put in the same room as Sten, the same for Morrigan with Leliana, but Alistair at least was more than happy to have Dudain on his bed, and Wynne was no doubt relieved to have a room to herself rather than a cramped tent. Naturally, Theron and Zevran were also sharing a room; it went without saying by now.

Dinner was a subdued affair, everyone more interested in getting a comfortable night’s sleep than a hot meal for once, and they quickly retired one after the other. Soon, Theron, Alistair and Dudain were the last ones at the table, picking at the remains of their meals and discussing plans for the next day. When Theron found it a struggle to keep his eyes open, he bid his fellow Warden goodnight and retreated up the stairs to his and Zevran’s room, the last one on the right. The door creaked quietly as he pushed it open, and he barely had time to lock it before the Antivan had set aside whatever it was he’d been busy with to stand in front of him.

“Miss me?” The ranger asked dryly, noting how Zevran had changed out of his armour into his sleeping trousers, and was pleasantly shirtless.

“Perhaps.” The blond smiled at him enigmatically, and there was a certain glint to his eyes that made Theron curious. Zevran had a plan of some kind.

The Dalish elf leaned back against the wooden door once he’d shrugged off his weapons and pack, setting them down on a chair that was suspiciously close to the door. Zevran _definitely_ had something planned, and Theron had been around him long enough to guess what that something might entail.

Zevran didn’t move from where he stood halfway between the bed and the door, hands clasped behind his back in a downright coy fashion as he watched the ranger. Was he actually standing in a way that showed off his muscles and tattoos? Theron almost felt like snorting in amusement at the sight, but that would ruin the budding mood that was equal parts playful as it was tense.

“Perhaps.” He echoed instead, raising one thin eyebrow as he felt the rough wood of the door press against his armoured back. He looked away from Zevran’s gaze, and pulled his gloves off with deliberate slowness. Aside from the rustle of cloth and faint creak of leather as he moved, the room was quiet.

Theron took his time getting out of his armour. He made a deliberate show of undoing every buckle and loosening every strap. Zevran didn’t offer to help as he usually did, but Theron didn’t find the lack of audience participation irritating. If anything, it helped him focus on undressing, shrugging off each piece of leather armour and the padding underneath.

Soon he stood in his smallclothes, underdressed in comparison to the blond standing a few feet away. The room was cold against his bare feet and exposed skin, but he didn’t shiver. He was Ferelden, and a Dalish elf. Surprisingly hardy, twice over. The cold was an irritation at best.

“I hope I haven’t done this for nothing.” Theron mused, as if finally breaking the silence would detract from the fact he was all but naked while Zevran still had his trousers on.

The blond hummed in absent response, gold eyes flicking over the ranger’s newly exposed form appreciatively and lingering on one or two places in particular. Theron slowly raised his eyebrow again, until Zevran felt the pointed stare and looked back at his face.

“My apologies, _amor_.” He grinned, looking more sheepish than seductive this time. “The long time on the road today gave me plenty of time alone with my thoughts.”

Theron allowed himself to snort in amusement at last.

“I bet it did.” He muttered, leaning back against the door again, but he pulled away a split-second later at the feeling of cold wood against his back. Zevran laughed, and whether it was at the startled response or his words, Theron didn’t know. He hoped it was the latter.

“So, what kind of thoughts did you entertain on the long and lonesome road?”

The Antivan grinned at him again, seductive this time.

“I could tell you, but I think it would be far more satisfying if I showed you instead, no?” Zevran suggested, taking a careful step forwards to close what little distance there was between them in the small, rented room.

“Definitely.” Theron agreed, reaching out to pull the other elf close and stop the dallying before even he grew impatient with it. They may as well make best use of an actual room with a bed instead of a thin canvas tent. Such a luxury wasn’t a common occurrence, and perhaps would never be for a long time to come.

Zevran didn’t need any more prompting to lean in and begin pressing hard kisses to the Dalish elf’s throat. Theron tilted his head back eagerly and let his hands fall to his sides and press against the door behind him, fingers brushing over the rough wood. He could smell Zevran; worn leather and sweat after a day spent walking in his armour, the poisons from his blades and pack, and beneath it the smell of unknown spices and radiating heat. The blond’s lips and tongue were hot and soft on his skin, working from his ear and over his pulse point to a collarbone. It was a familiar sensation, but one than never failed to excite Theron with all the promises of more it contained.

The Dalish elf smiled when Zevran’s lips eventually found his, and returned the demanding, rough kiss eagerly. He felt the solid warmth of the blond’s body press him against the door at the same time as one hand found it’s way into his braids, and one lean thigh slid carefully between his own. He was pinned, quite effectively.

“Oh no. I’m trapped.” Theron deadpanned when Zevran pulled out of the kiss.

“How unfortunate.” The Antivan intoned, and they stared at each other for a quiet second before they both snickered.

“Very.” The ranger nodded sombrely, casually pushing his hips forwards onto the blond’s thigh in search of friction as he leaned back in for a deeper kiss. He put his arms around Zevran’s shoulders, closing his eyes to enjoy the kiss and the feeling of Zevran’s body pressed against his.

Theron bit back a groan at the feeling of pressure against his groin; the warmth of Zevran’s thigh through so few layers of thin cloth wasn’t something he ever wanted to lose; it mirrored the growing heat low in the pit of his stomach. He could feel the blond’s free hand run down his side, the touch gentle enough to make him shiver. In response, the Dalish elf let his hands roam over Zevran’s exposed back and chest, feeling the faint shift of his muscles underneath tanned golden skin.

Zevran’s tongue flicked out to trace his lower lip, and any noise Theron made at the feeling was muffled by the kiss. He could have sworn he heard the former Crow chuckle when they next parted, but when he opened his eyes he was quickly distracted by wandering hands.

“Someone’s eager.” Zevran purred as their lips brushed together, golden eyes gleaming with amusement and unmistakeable hunger.

“I’m pinned against a door, about to be ravished by a handsome assassin.” Theron shrugged helplessly at his plight, stealing a kiss to the corner of the other elf’s lips.

“ _Thoroughly_ ravished.” The blond corrected him, leaning in to suck at his pulse point until a bruise began to form. There would be no hiding it tomorrow morning.

“I feel sorry for whoever’s in the room next to us.” The ranger admitted, deciding to follow Zevran’s example and let his hands trail southwards until they came to rest on the back of the Antivan’s trousers.

“I don’t.” Zevran shrugged, grinning wickedly when Theron rolled his eyes.

“You never do. But you’re not the one who got a highly embarrassing lecture from Wynne about it.”

The blond sighed in exaggerated defeat, dropping his head onto Theron’s shoulder.

“Fine, but _I_ am not the one who makes all of the noise.” He answered, voice slightly muffled. Theron went still, and felt his cheeks heat uncomfortably. In the ensuing silence, he felt Zevran move slightly, and he glanced down to see the blond peering up through his eyelashes with one eyebrow raised quizzically.

“ _Fenedhis_.” The ranger sighed, leaning back against the door and raising one hand to his face as if that would stop the blushing.

“Truthfully, I find the noises you make _highly_ encouraging.” Zevran continued, his voice low in that way they both knew Theron found seductive, but his gaze was softer and apologetic.

Theron glanced away, and he was saved from going over that highly embarrassing conversation with Wynne yet again by Zevran’s rough, dagger-callused thumb brushing over his cheek reassuringly.

“I talk too much and ruin the mood or I’m too loud.” The ranger sighed, leaning against the blond’s hand with a dry smile. “Either way I can’t shut up.”

The other elf’s teeth flashed as he grinned.

“You don’t, and you are not. But if you are willing, I could gag you next time?” He offered. Theron found himself biting back laughter.

“Thanks for the offer, but if you find the sounds I make so encouraging then I don’t think a gag would help.” The ranger answered, leaning forwards to press another brief kiss to Zevran’s lips. “Anyway, where were we?” He added, glancing down at the blond’s thigh promptingly.

“Hm. The ravishing, I believe.”

Zevran didn’t need any more prompting to continue what he’d been doing earlier, running his hands over Theron’s chest and down the curve of his ribs to the sharp lines of his hipbones. Theron leaned back against the door again, tilting his head back to bask in the attention as Zevran finally did away with his smallclothes and the wonderful pressure of his thigh after a dramatic pause.

This time, the rush of cold air against such a delicate part of his anatomy made Theron flinch slightly, and the movement didn’t go unnoticed. One of Zevran’s warm hands curled around his half-hard member and began to stroke gently. In return, Theron tightened his grip on Zevran’s (sadly) still clothed ass.

Their next kiss was harsher, their heated breaths mingling in what little space there was between their bodies. Theron could still feel the rough wood of the door digging into his back, but the discomfort was happily eclipsed by Zevran’s skilled hand and the occasional nip or brush of tongue against his lips.

All too soon Zevran had pulled out of the kiss again, leaving the Dalish elf confused for a brief second. That confusion melted away when he saw how the blond’s eyes were dark with hunger once more, and the heat in his stomach tightened in anticipation. It tightened further when Zevran stopped stroking him, and gracefully lowered himself to his knees.

“Shouldn’t we make use of the bed for this?” He asked for the sake of it, tearing his gaze away from the blond knelt before him to look at the bed.

“Later.” Was the promising response, and Theron let his his head tip back against the door with a faint thump at the feeling of Zevran’s warm breath against the inside of his thighs. It wasn’t more than a tease compared to what had just happened, but it certainly left him wanting more. It always did, and he knew it. Zevran knew it as well.

Theron relaxed as he felt Zevran’s hands run up his thighs to his hips, and as the blond finally began to use his clever tongue Theron leaned his weight back against the door and put one leg over Zevran’s shoulders. He wasn’t expecting Zevran to pause and then tighten his grip.

“What.” He managed to say oh so eloquently when he was suddenly pinned to the door again, both legs over Zevran’s shoulders and one of the blond’s arms supporting the rest of his weight. His feet were off the ground entirely, and it took him a small amount of awkward shifting until the door wasn’t pressed uncomfortably against his shoulder blades. Zevran grinned up at him from between his legs, looking very satisfied with himself. Like a cat locked in a creamery.

“To answer your earlier question about the lonesome road…” The Antivan trailed off, glancing at the lean thighs either side of his head.

“I’m amazed it worked.” Theron blinked, simply glad that Zevran was still supporting his weight. All the same, it wasn’t the most comfortable experience, mostly due to the door behind him. “Still think the bed would have been a better choice.” He added, and the blond tutted at him.

“Where is your sense of adventure, _amor_?” Zevran mockingly chided, before he returned his attention to more important things and pressed a kiss to the tip of Theron’s member.

The Dalish elf sighed again, giving the bed one last mournful look before he too refocused on what Zevran was doing to him. He closed his eyes as the Antivan traced a small spiral with the tip of his tongue from the slit outwards, soon losing himself in the physical sensations.

Again, the discomfort of the door and the unusual new position was soon pushed to the back of his mind, in favour of Zevran’s warm mouth around him, the way his tongue flicked and teased. The wet sucking that made sparks of pleasure shoot to his core and leave fire in their wake, Zevran slowly taking more and more in. Theron let his head fall back against the door, biting back a sound of pleasure as they settled into a rhythm.

He quickly discovered that he wasn’t able to thrust his hips much in this awkward position, not without the risk of becoming unbalanced. So, Zevran was in control.

“ _Etunash_.” He hissed, even as he tangled one hand roughly into Zevran’s so-far immaculate hair. All he could really do was dig his heels into Zevran’s back to pull himself closer and deeper into the willing heat and dampness of Zevran’s mouth. Soon he was panting, and despite himself the odd gasp of pleasure and noises that certainly _weren’t_ whines were making their way out of his mouth.

“Zevran.” He managed, resisting the urge to dig his fingers into the blond’s scalp. Zevran was definitely not a fan of that. The blond hummed around his length between each suck, a low vibration that nudged Theron ever closer to the end. “Zevran, Zev…” He repeated breathlessly, the tension that pooled in his stomach reaching breaking point.

His toes curled, Zevran did something with his tongue at just the right - or perhaps wrong - time, and the last thread of Theron’s self-control snapped. He climaxed with a bitten off groan, gritting his teeth to keep himself as quiet as possible. Those few seconds felt like an Age, and as Theron leaned back against the door, spent and with a dull ache in his shoulder blades, he felt Zevran’s hands gently untangle his from his hair.

He could still feel the Antivan’s mouth around him, his tongue working to catch the last few drops. It was gone a moment later, Zevran pulling his head back at last to rest his forehead against Theron’s stomach. Then Zevran moved again, this time carefully removing the other elf’s legs from his shoulders and helping him down to the floor. Theron sat cross-legged, ignoring the cold stone as he got his breath back and remembered how to speak coherent sentences longer than three words.

“That was…” He began, but trailed off, shaking his head in defeat.

“Enjoyable?” Zevran guessed hopefully.

“Thoroughly.” Theron nodded in wholehearted agreement, rolling his aching shoulders now he didn’t have a door restricting his movement. He winced when he felt a spark of pain that shattered the complacency of his afterglow, and automatically tried to feel for the source of the problem.

“I think I have a splinter, though.” He added quietly, not surprised when Zevran laughed again.

There was a sudden bad-tempered thump from the wall to their right that made them both start guiltily, followed by a muffled: “Could’ja keep it down, lovebirds? _Some_ of us’re tryin’ to sleep!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When fantasy meets reality, hilarity often ensues. Especially with these two dorks.  
>  ~~And I apologise for the Tenacious D reference.~~
> 
> Translations:  
> Fenedhis = Wolf dick, equivelent to 'damn' or related curses.  
> Etunash = Shit  
> Thanks to Project Elvhen for providing the translation.

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism, on this piece or any other I've posted here, is very much appreciated!


End file.
